Ave Michaels is an out-and-proud cynical romantic who never had her heart broken (considering she has to fall in love first.)
That is until, in order to get published, she has to prove she's a versatile writer by writing a romance novel.
Throw in a...
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"In Which Reality is Getting Stuck on Incongruous Nicknames"
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"It's pretty simple, pretty obvious: that people's first impressions of people are really a big mistake."
-
Vincent D'Onofrio
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(Still) The Arm Bar (gym), Behind The Garage
8:??PM
Cold laughter bubbles inside my throat, spewing straight from my lips at a strained pace, yet never truly reaching the dead look in my eyes.
"ACK!"A strangled noise comes from Dax, his shoulders quaking in barely suppressed laughter.
Suddenly, the sly glances, the not-so-secret curious stares, and the sudden fascination over my reaction to the new mechanic all made sense!
They weren't tokenizing* me for my opinion as a hormonal boy-crazed female teenager. They were simply stabbing me in the back!
"You. Sneaky. Old. Man," I snarl through my teeth, punctuating each word with raw derision under the guise of a smile.
Pops's dark brows pull all the way back to his widow's peak, his shifty gaze keenly avoiding my dark stare. "I prefer the word 'cunning.'"
"You cunning old man. Why can't D n' D do it?" I grumble under my breath, referring to Dax and Declan. Although, it does sound like Dunkin' Donuts.
Oh, god. I could use a Choco Butternut right about now.
Dammit. Eyes on the kill, Ave! No way was I letting this hoarding assgiant mess around with my baby!
"Psh!" — Dax sucks his teeth, his strong chin pressed to his neck and arms folded across his chest —"Maybe because we want to live?"
He didn't even bother to filter his words in front of a stranger.
CR-A-A-ACK! My knuckles cry out, looming closely over the man I once called 'brother'.
"Mind repeating that, bro?" I ask with a disgustingly sweet smile, offsetting the hard glint in my eyes and the way my voice was dripping with irritation.
Dax may appear calm and collected on the surface but the tell-tale drop of sweat on his temple was a dead giveaway.
"I said" — he covers his mouth with a closed fist like a mouthguard and coughs — "Better him than you" — his wide narrow eyes bravely meet my Medusa's Eyes* while slowly creating as much space as possible between us — "getting apeshit crazy and murdering one of us if we screw your bike up."
